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RELIGIOUS or sectarian controversy is foreign to the purpose of the
KNICKERBOCKER; yet we could not decline the calm consideration of
facts brought forward to correct alleged misstatements. 'If,' says
the writer, 'N. S. D.' wishes information on a subject with which
he seems to be unacquainted, I should like to refer him to works
wherein he may find the original documents.' For our own part, we
think, as we have already partly intimated, that 'the less said the
better' touching the treatment of the Quakers and 'others of the
Non-elect' by the New-England Puritans. WASHINGTON IRVING has driven
a long nail home on this theme: 'The zeal of these good people to
maintain their rights and privileges unimpaired, betrayed them into
errors, which it is easier to pardon than defend. Having served a
regular apprenticeship in the school of persecution, it behooved
them to show that they had become proficients in the art. They
accordingly employed their leisure hours in banishing, scourging,
or hanging, divers heretical Papists, Quakers, and Anabaptists, for
daring to abuse the 'liberty of conscience,' which they now clearly
proved to imply nothing more than that every man should think as he
pleased in matters of religion, _provided_ he thought _right_; for
otherwise it would be giving a latitude to damnable heresies. Now
as they were perfectly convinced that they alone thought right, it
consequently followed that whoever thought differently from them,
thought wrong; and whoever thought wrong, and obstinately persisted
in not being convinced and converted, was a flagrant violator of
the inestimable liberty of conscience, and a corrupt and infectious
member of the body politic, and deserved to be lopped off and cast
into the fire!' * * * WE are indebted to a most kind correspondent
for the following excerpt from his note-book. It is an extract made
many years ago from some author, whose name and that of his work
our friend has alike forgotten. How many just such thoughtless,
rattle-brained, _aimless_ talkers have we encountered! We rather
like the practice of an old friend of ours in this regard! He makes
it a point, he says, never to _inquire_ after any body!
'WHOEVER has visited Cambridge, can hardly fail of recollecting
Lady ----. The leading idea of her life was to _do the pretty_;
to say civil things and make agreeable speeches. But alas!
her ladyship was not infallible, and sometimes with the very
best intentions would fail desperately. They relate of her
at Cambridge, that during a series of concerts which Madame
CATALANI gave at the last grand commencement, this Queen of Song
was staying at the house of her friend Mrs. F. At an evening
party at D---- Lodge, Lady ---- was invited to meet her. 'My
dear Madame CATALANI! how delighted, how transported I am to see
you! When did you arrive? How is Monsieur VALBRIQUE? and your
dear little boy?' CATALANI changed color; her lip quivered, and
her fine dark eyes filled with tears, as she murmured: '_Ah!
pauvre petit, je l'ai perdu!_' 'What an engaging, interesting,
elegant little creature he is!' '_Je l'ai perdu!_' shrieked the
foreigner, in a tone of agony. Lady ---- had forgot her French.
'Is he, indeed? I am happy to hear it. I always said he would
come out something extraordinary.' '_Je l'ai perdu! Je l'ai
perdu!_' cried poor CATALANI, in a more piercing tone, and with
increased emotion. 'Don't exert yourself; yes, yes; I understand
you, perfectly; well, pray remember me to him very kindly, since
he is not with you, and offer him my congratulations.' '_He
is dead! he is dead!_ Lady ----,' said Mrs. F. impatiently.
'Dead! Why didn't somebody tell me so? Poor little fellow!
And so he's dead! Well, I declare, I am very sorry for him!
Dead! That's very surprising!' On another occasion she said to
another distinguished guest: 'Ah! my dear Mrs. SIDDONS, what an
unexpected gratification to see you at Cambridge! How d'ye do?
Ah! but you are altered, when one comes to look at you! very
much altered! Let me see; it must be thirty years ago since Sir
BENJAMIN and I were first delighted with your Lady Randolph.
How life ebbs away! What changes we see! It was poor EDWIN'S
night, I think. Surely, that was the Augustan era of the British
Theatre! Ah! poor EDWIN! he's gone! And PALMER, Gentleman
PALMER, he's gone! And DODD--clever actor, DODD--he's gone! We
live in a world of changes!' Mrs. SIDDONS looked sad, and was
silent. 'I've been recollecting when it was I saw you last. It
must be about fourteen years ago. You played Queen Catherine,
and your gifted brother JOHN played Wolsey. What a heat it was!
Dear JOHN KEMBLE! and _he's_ gone!' Mrs. SIDDONS burst into
tears. 'Amiable creature!' said Lady ---- to the astonished
by-standers; 'what an affectionate heart she has!'
WE once saw a painting of the SAVIOUR OF MEN, which we could well
deem to be like the divine original; and never while we live shall
we forget the heavenly face which the artist had depicted. It was
the countenance of a 'man of sorrows, acquainted with grief:' there
was a pervading _pathos_ in its expression, which 'brought the
water-drops to our eyes.' The picture is now in Germany, where it
was painted; and we can never hope to see another so perfect an
embodiment of our conception of the lineaments of the REDEEMER.
There was something in the _ensemble_ of the picture which we
remember to have thought was like a description, by an eye-witness,
of the SAVIOUR'S personal presence, which we had read in our youth,
and which we were glad recently to encounter in an old common-place
book. It was addressed by PUBLIUS LENTULLUS, President in Judea in
the reign of TIBERIUS CÆSAR, to the Senate of Rome:
'CONSCRIPT FATHERS: There appeared in these our days a man of
great virtue, named JESUS CHRIST, who is yet living among us,
and of the Gentiles is accepted for a Prophet of truth; but his
own disciples call him the SON OF GOD. He raiseth the dead, and
cureth all manner of diseases. A man of stature somewhat tall
and comely, and in proportion of body well shaped; his hands and
arms delectable to behold; with a very reverend countenance,
such as the beholders may both love and fear. His hair is of
the color of a filbert full ripe to his ears, whence downward
it is more orient of color, somewhat curling or waving about
his shoulders. In the midst of his head, is a seam or partition
of his hair, after the manner of the Nazarites. His forehead
is plain and delicate. His cheeks without spot or wrinkle,
beautified with a comely red; his nose and mouth exactly formed.
His beard is thick, the color of his hair; not of any great
length, but forked. His look innocent and mature. His eyes gray,
dear, and quick. In reproving he is awful; in admonishing,
courteous and friendly; in speaking, very temperate, modest,
and wise. It cannot be remembered that any have seen him laugh,
but many have seen him weep. A being for his singular beauty
surpassing the children of men.'
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LET us add here a beautiful sonnet, on this great theme, which we
derive from an esteemed friend and contributor, who has been kind
enough to copy it for us from the writer's manuscript: